


Leave in Silence

by darkrose



Series: Walking on Broken Glass [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Character Study, Chromatic Character, Game Playthrough, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrose/pseuds/darkrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris hates mages, and everyone knows it. But right after rescuing a terrified young apprentice isn't the time or the place for that discussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Full Stop

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning: Contains references to attempted rape.**. Set immediately following DA2 Act 2 quest "Dissent". Titles are from "Leave in Silence" by Depeche Mode

Hawke counted out a stack of coins--mostly copper and silver, I noticed--and pressed them into the girl's hand. "Find something to wear besides your robes, and book passage on the next ship to Ferelden," he instructed. "The Hero of Ferelden is in command at Vigil's Keep, in Amaranthine; he's a mage and the Warden-Commander and he may be able to help you. Don't tell anyone your real name. And don't cast any spells, even if you don't see anyone around, do you understand?"

The girl nodded so vigorously I wondered if her neck might snap. "Thank you, messere. Andraste Herself must have put you in that room." She turned and ran.

Even I felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl, but she was still a mage, and I had yet to encounter one other than Hawke who could be trusted. "You're just going to let her go, then, and hope for the best? Are you really that naive, Hawke?"

He looked at me then, and I almost took a step back, an atavistic response to anger from a powerful mage. I heard Varric mutter, "Not the time for this, Broody," but my attention was all on Hawke, his face like stone, eyes like two chips of black ice.

"Should I send her back to the Circle so some other templar can rape her?" he said finally, biting off each word. "Maybe she'll be lucky, and the next one won't have her made Tranquil first...although I suppose that way, at least it won't bother her much."

That wasn't at all what I meant. "I..."

He never raised his voice; somehow, that made it worse. "That girl could have been my sister. She could have been _me_. That's what my father was trying to protect us from."

Hawke leaned close, his eyes glowing with blue light reflected from the lightning arcing over his skin. It made me think of the abomination.

"Is that what I'd have to do to make you come back?" he whispered. "If I were Tranquil and not a mage anymore, would that make it easier for you? I mean, I wouldn't have a personality, and you'd lose the pleasure of my scintillating conversation, but--"

My markings flared brightly, responding to my anger. "If that's what it takes to get you to shut up once in a while--"

I wanted the words back as soon as they'd left my lips. I'd rather have had him angry with me than to see his stricken expression. The lightning on his skin vanished and he turned away. "I...have to go...." He strode off, turned a corner and vanished into the shadows of Darktown. I would have followed had Varric not grabbed my arm.

"Don't. Let him cool off. It'll give you some time to figure out how you're going to apologize."

I didn't argue with him. He was right.

~ o ~

That night, alone in the decrepit mausoleum I'd claimed as my home, I drank. And when I finally fell asleep, I dreamed:

_He's about sixteen or seventeen, tall and gawky, all arms and legs, and his shaggy black hair obscures his face. I have no idea what Julian looked like at that age, but I know it's him. He creeps into the room, trying to be stealthy and not doing a half-bad job, until he barks his shin on something, curses, and tosses out a flare of mage light so he can see. The light reveals that he's not alone._

_The templar who steps out of the shadows looks like Alrik, but his voice..._

_He sounds like Danarius._

_"An apprentice sneaking around the library after hours. That looks rather suspicious. Someone might think you were looking for something...forbidden."_

_"I couldn't sleep. I just wanted something to read," Julian protests, foolishly allowing himself to be backed against the wall. The Templar looms over him._

_"Oh yes, I'm sure the Knight-Commander will believe that." The Templar laughs. "Of course, I might be willing to keep quiet. If you happened to have something I wanted."_

_"You're disgusting," Julian snaps, but he doesn't move, not even when the Templar grabs his shoulder and slams him face-first against the wall. Julian gasps softly, a sound I've heard often in my dreams. I don't want to hear him make it for anyone else, least of all this...whoever it's supposed to be._

_The Templar chuckles as he runs a hand down the front of Julian's robes. "Feel free to pretend you don't want it; I know the truth, Demon-cursed whores, the lot of you."_

_In my rage, I forget that this is a dream, that I'm truly a ghost. I reach for the Templar before I realize that I'm invisible and silent to him. All I can do is clench insubstantial fists as I watch him fondle the sixteen-year-old Julian who, thank the Maker, never was._

_At last the Templar steps back and shoves Julian's robes up--or tries to. Julian twists around and pushes his hand outward in a gesture I've seen often; the Templar goes flying. Before he can recover Julian slams a fist down in the air, crushing the Templar beneath an invisible weight._

_Unfortunately this alternate version of Julian isn't as strong as the one I know, and he struggles to maintain the spell while making his escape. He's shaking visibly as he approaches the...doorway, I suppose--it seems to shift and bend as things do in the Fade--and is almost to the door when the Templar breaks free of the spell. With a flash of light so bright that even I have to look away, the Templar smites him; Julian falls to the floor._

_"Now that was downright stupid." The Templar looks less like Alrik and more like Danarius now as my mind hammers the point home. He holds out a hand that glows bright gold. "Now, you've attacked me. I'm sure you know what happens next."_

_This Julian isn't a veteran of dozens of battles; no matter how much he struggles, he can't break free of the Templar's grip. He screams, and the sound is almost...familiar to me._

_I want to wake, but I keep watching as the Templar traces a circle on Julian's forehead. (That's not how it works, I'm sure of it.) Julian stops fighting and closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, they are flat and empty, but all I can see is the sunburst brand on his forehead._

_Someone is screaming again. I'm fairly certain it's me._

~ o ~

I sat up in bed, gasping for breath. Quickly I pulled on a shirt and trousers. I had to talk to him, to apologize. Not for distrusting mages--I had ample reason not to--but for not trusting his judgement.

For not trusting _him._

For once, I wasn't accosted by any random thugs on my way to the Hawke estate. Despite the late hour, the door was unbarred, and I couldn't help shaking my head. _He'll never learn._ Before I could enter, however, I heard footsteps. I quickly ducked around a corner. There were enough wild rumours about Hawke; I didn't wish to add grist to the gossip-mills if I could help it.

The moon was nearly full, but even without the light I'd have recognized the person approaching from his hunched shoulders and furtive, jerky motions. The staff and the ridiculous coat that made him look like a moulting pigeon only confirmed my worst fears.

I crouched down, hiding in the foliage as the abomination approached. He hesitated a moment before opening the door as if unsure of his welcome, and I wondered if Hawke left the door unbarred on purpose.

It made perfect sense. As the abomination was fond of telling anyone who would listen, Hawke deserved better than a bitter, resentful ex-slave. It would hardly have been the first time I had to apologize for including Hawke in my condemnation of mages and everything to do with magic, and I'd never apologized to him for...

Once I started thinking about it, I couldn't stop. I pictured them together, dark limbs against pale ones, golden hair tangled with black, magic flickering between them. I despised Anders, yet even so, I couldn't deny that he was an attractive man. And Julian...I doubted I could ever lose the memory of him staring up at me as he traced the lines of my markings, his expression open and vulnerable and _beautiful_ , words I'd never have dreamed of applying to a mage.

I told myself it was the _vulnerable_ part that made me stay there, hidden. Julian was hardly stupid, but he was too trusting, too quick to assume the best of most people. If the abomination lost control of the demon inside him, I wasn't sure even Julian would be fast enough to stop him.

Everyone in Hightown probably heard the loud bang from inside the Hawke estate, like someone slammed a door shut with incredible force. A moment later the abomination stormed out, his eyes bright blue; I had to struggle not to glow in response. He paused, head in hands, and I could just barely hear him muttering as he argued with his demon.

"No, it's not...yes, but he's not...he doesn't...he'll get tired of it...no, just...shut up and go away!" It appeared the demon obeyed, because the blue light faded and the abomination walked away.

I didn't move until I could no longer hear his footsteps. For a moment, I debatde going inside, but I decided to return to the mansion. I would need to decide what I'd say to Hawke in the morning, but right then it was enough to know that the door wasn't entirely closed after all.


	2. Emotional Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Julian should just keep his mouth shut. Like that's ever going to happen.

Aside from the color of her skin and hair, she didn't look like Bethany, not really. She was shorter, for one thing, and her eyes were light brown, almost golden. Carver got the Hawke features and the Amell eyes, and I was always completely my father's son in looks as well as temperment, while Bethany got the delicate Amell nose and mouth and the dark-brown Hawke eyes. Mages' eyes, my mother used to say when we were little, until Carver was old enough to take it as yet another jab at him for being the odd one out.

"Find your parents, but don't stay there. You need to leave Kirkwall," I told her.

"I know. There's nowhere in the city I can go where Ser Alrik's men won't find me." Despite her recent brush with death and worse than death, her voice was calm and steady; I was impressed.

 _Not if I find them first._ I didn't enjoy killing people, but I was willing to make exceptions.

I counted out a stack of coins--coppers and silvers only; people would remember someone who tossed sovereigns around--and gave them to her. "Find something to wear besides your robes, and book passage on the next ship to Ferelden. The Hero of Ferelden is in command at Vigil's Keep, in Amaranthine; he's a mage and the Warden-Commander and he may be able to help you. Don't tell anyone your real name. And don't cast any spells, even if you don't see anyone around, do you understand?"

Her eyes were wide, but she finally nodded. "Thank you, messere. Andraste Herself must have put you in that room." She turned and ran.

"You're just going to let her go, then, and hope for the best? Are you really that naive, Hawke?"

I turned to stare at Fenris. I couldn't believe he was saying that after what we'd just witnessed. Surely even he could see that in Kirkwall, at least, the system was broken. Andraste's flaming tits, even _Carver_ saw it.

"Should I send her back to the Circle so some other templar can rape her?" I snapped. "Maybe she'll be lucky, and the next one won't have her made Tranquil first...although I suppose that way, at least it won't bother her much."

It had only been a few minutes since I'd reduced Alrik to a smoldering heap of charred flesh and slag metal, and the lightning was there without me calling it, sparking blue over my skin. Fenris flinched at my tone, and any other time, I'd have felt bad. "That girl could have been my sister. She could have been _me_. That's what my father was trying to protect us from."

I should have left it there. I should also have flapped my arms and flown to the moon, which was about as likely as me learning to keep my big mouth shut.

"Is that what I'd have to do to make you come back?" I said quietly. "If I were Tranquil and not a mage anymore, would that make it easier for you? I mean, I wouldn't have a personality, and you'd lose the pleasure of my scintillating conversation, but--"

His markings flared blue; I suspected that I'd gone too far. His next words confirmed that:

"If that's what it takes to get you to shut up once in a while--"

_"What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?"_

I was the first to turn away, to run blindly through the twisted passages of the Undercity. When I stopped to catch my breath, I had to laugh, because _of course_ I was right in front of Anders' clinic.

It was only then that I remembered the paper I'd taken from what was left of Alrik. It was still in the inside pocket of my coat, and I took it out and scanned it quickly, then read it again more slowly to make sure I fully grasped the implications. Only then did I climb the stairs. Anders was inside, sorting through his few possessions.

"Trash. Trash. Keep. Trash...."

Despite everything I knew about him and what I had just seen, I had an overwhelming urge to run my fingers through his hair.

"Throwing everything out won't make you feel better," I told him. He looked at me then, his eyes mercifully brown.

"Should I feel better?" he snapped. "You were the only thing that kept me from murdering an innocent girl."

He did have a point. Still...."You didn't, Anders. You heard me, and you stopped. I gave her money and told her to leave Kirkwall. She'll be safe and Alrik will never get his filthy hands on another mage."

Anders shook his head and continued as if I hadn't spoken. "It's all gone wrong; Justice and I. We're just a monster, the same as any abomination. How can I even trust myself to heal anymore?"

I remembered how _right_ it had felt to let the power ride me, to feel the lightning using me as a focus, spilling out of my hands to make the little men in the tin suits dance like puppets on my string. "We're dangerous, Anders," I said, keeping my tone gentle. "The Chantry's wrong about a lot of things, but...they're right about that. I'm not saying it justifies what they do at all. It means that we have to prove that we can control our power."

For a moment, I thought Anders was going to argue. Then he shook his head, and to my surprise, rested his hand on my face, tracing the lines of my tattoo. "You have too much faith in me. I struggle with this vengeance inside of me...but I know you won't let me lose myself to him."

Anders was my friend. Once, I'd thought we might be more than that, until I met a certain maddening, stubborn bastard of an elf from Tevinter and decided to bang my head against that gorgeous, lyrium-covered wall. I don't think said elf had really meant what he'd said earlier, and I'd tried to be patient but...

...maybe Fenris wasn't coming back. Maybe I didn't want him to.

It was easy to turn my head just a little and press my mouth against Anders' palm. He jerked away as though I'd sparked at him. Which I hadn't, but I checked to make sure.

"I've tried to hold back." He didn't look at me, just rubbed at the spot on his hand where I'd kissed him. "You know what I am. But I'm still a man. Don't expect me to resist forever."

I couldn't help it. I smirked. "How long will it take before I drive you mad?"

Apparently the answer was, "Less than a second," because Anders grabbed me and fastened his mouth over mine. His mouth tasted like his magic, cool and sharp, with a faint hint of something acrid and bitter, something that I decided to ignore. Instead, I focused on working the tie out of his hair so it spilled over my hands, and enjoying the almost-forgotten sensation of beard stubble against my skin.

When he finally pulled away, Anders's face was flushed, his hair disheveled and lips swollen. I imagined I looked the same, minus the flushing part."If we could die tomorrow, I didn't want it to be without doing that."

I smirked. "So that's it? Now you're ready to die?"

He stared at me. "I thought with Justice this part of me was over....I can't give you a normal life. If you're with me we'll be hated...hunted. The whole world will be against us."

I shrugged. "Sounds like Tuesday."

He actually smiled a tiny bit at that. "If your door is open tonight, I'll come to you. If not, I'll know you took my warning at last."

~ o ~

I'd forgotten how badly I'd wanted Anders at first. He was the first mage I'd spent any time around without being related to. If I tilted my head and squinted, he looked like a pale blond version of my father.

Of course, for all the reckless things I suspected he'd done in his life, my father never played host to a cranky Fade spirit. But that, too, was part of the attraction. I couldn't imagine the passion, the certainty that it must have taken to willingly choose to become that which every mage is taught to fear. And when Justice came out, speaking through Anders's mouth and working through his hands, it really was like he'd brought the Fade into the waking world. I envied his commitment to his cause, and I hated watching it distill everything away until only the cause was left.

I paced in front of the fireplace, in the same spot where Fenris had given his "It's not you, it's me" speech. Right in front of me was the bed, where Fenris had pounded me into the mattress and licked my tattoos as if they tasted as good as his did to me. Orana had changed the bedding several times since then, but I imagined I could still catch a trace of his scent in the pillows.

_I can't do this. Why am I doing this?_

My magic was part of me, like Fenris's markings only more so, because I was born with it. I couldn't stop being a mage, and I'd never wanted to, not from the first time I'd made Bethany laugh and Carver cry by juggling balls of lightning. Fenris might never be able to truly accept that rather than just tolerate it. Anders, though, would always understand, would know without having to explain it in clumsy words that would never be sufficient. I just didn't know if there'd be enough of Anders apart from Justice left for me.

I heard the main door open and footsteps cross the great room, coming up the stairs. I took a long, deep breath in a vain attempt to steady myself.

"You're here," I said as Anders came into my room. "I wasn't sure..."

His mouth twisted in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Justice doesn't approve of my obsession with you. He thinks you're a distraction. It is one of the few things on which he and I disagree."

 _Great...the voices in your head don't like me. Way to kill the mood._ I made myself grin and asked, "So...he's kind of an unwilling participant in our threesome?"

"Please don't call it that." His scowl was oddly reassuring. His next words weren't.

"Are you sure you want me here? I thought you and Fenris...or did the beast finally turn on you?"

_I know he doesn't like to be touched, but I reach for him out of pure instinct. There's a flash of blue and my back hits the wall, and then the blue glow is eclipsed by green and I'm drowning and if I die Maker let it be like this....It's not his hand in my chest, it's his mouth on mine, demanding, claiming me, and I tilt my head to expose my throat so he can mark me as his._

"Don't call him that!" I felt the lightning gathering and I forced it down hard enough that I knew I'd have a headache soon. "Anders, I'm sorry. I can't do this."

"Fine!" he snapped. "Whatever you see in a maniac like that...perhaps at least your hand will tame him."

"The abomination calling someone else a maniac? Nice."

There was a blue shimmer around him, and when he spoke, I could hear echoes of Justice. "Unlike you, I care about what happens to other mages. I seek justice for us all. What do you seek?"

_"What manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"_

I didn't owe either Anders or Justice an answer. "Get out. Now!"

He turned and left. With a burst of force magic, I slammed the door behind him hard enough to make the walls shake a little. I heard a soft feminine cry from the room next to mine, and then the sound of a door opening and people moving around.

"It's alright, Orana," my mother said, loudly enough for me to catch every word. "Julian is just having a moment. I _know_ he'll apologize in the morning."

After that, there was no way I was going to open the door to whistle for Sirius, so instead of having a lover or at least the warm, somewhat smelly weight of my dog next to me, I spent the night alone, declining nouns in Tevinter until I finally fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Fenris as a character, and I love trying to friendmance him with a moderate mage!Hawke. But I also have to think that every so often, Fenris's mage hating is going to bug Hawke. Even with a friendmance, I suspect there's still a lot of arguing.


End file.
